


Deviant Art Kiriban Collection

by Xobit



Series: Transformers Wolf'verse [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Hunter - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash, Sticky Sex, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Kiriban prizes done for people on Deviant Art.</p><p>Cosmos/Seaspray - Greek'verse AU<br/>Grapple/Hoist - G1 AU<br/>Lockdown/Prowl - Wolf and fox AU<br/>Hound/Mirage - G1 AU<br/>Sentinel Prime/Swindle - Transformers Wolf'verse AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home is where the Spark is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20.000 won by Nnoca
> 
> Warning: MILD Slash (relationship hints and kissing), meandering down memory lane, Romance
> 
> Summary: Somewhat introspective fic about finding your place in life...

**Love**

Cosmos smiled, watching fine red sand run between his fingers in small streams. He had never seen a place quite like this. Standing on a rock ledge he looked out over what was literally a sea of sand. A sea you could sail on if what he had observed of the natives species was true… a sea that had beings living in it, shallow ‘water’ and deep alike. 

This was what he loved about scouting, about his chosen work, and now he could share it like he had never done before. The joy, the discoveries, the images…

 **Look**

It stretched from the land mass’s tip on which he stood and to another far away, past the curve of the planet. Far out there on the edge of the horizon moved one of the wondrous ‘ships’ that sailed the glowing red sand sea. Its’ sails were like the wings of a great cyberhawk and seemed far too big for the delicate vessel they carried onwards. 

He gladly lent his optics to his other half, feeling the rush of excited nervousness he had come to crave. The minibot felt his dermas curve and did not fight it in the least. He would be back here soon, and then he wouldn’t have to share his processor for he could share this world physically instead. 

Transforming he gunned his engines and shot up, out of the planet’s atmosphere, pausing up there for a moment to share the stunning visual of the red, yellow and golden world under him. Then he was off, leaving the new world behind to return to his home.

Space…

The Mebionite huffed gently, realizing that was not true anymore. He loved space, it was the reason he had left his city-state behind, as much as any mech ever did. Cosmos still had family there and he visited with stories of the many wonders he had seen. 

But space was no longer his home. 

Hurtling though space he pondered this novel idea and laughed when another’s amusement intruded… a shared joke. He had after all won over his very much surface bound other half… had he not? 

**Agreement**

His other half had been just as misplaced as Cosmos, just as much of an awkward outsider because of his alt mode. But they had been worlds apart still… 

It was a miracle that they had even met, and more of one that they had talked that first time. And then there had been that delay and they had talked more. Talked enough. 

Pantheron himself had to have had a hand in it. Or Prima of the Holy Triad had for some reason cast her optics their way and found them pleasing enough to grant her blessing. A daunting thought for a minibot who had always felt just a little out of place. 

**Silly**

He wasn’t being silly though… Smiling a little, he considered doing something silly just so that the endearment would ring though. 

It would only delay him. 

Gunning his engines again he did a small spiral maneuver just to have something add up and then went back to his thoughts. 

In Mebion he had been the odd one out, chunky spacer armor and odd alt, uninterested in gardening or preservation though he loved nature and enthusiastically swallowed down every byte of data to be found on the subject. No matter if it was Cybertronian or alien. 

When he had his last upgrade and his thick armor kept true, his family had banded together to send him to an outside University. That was where he had found his calling… Xenocybernetics and xenobiology. 

In Kaon, he had found his vocation… being first scout to an exploration ship. 

**Warmth**

A soundless happy mewl left the minibot and he sent his love back over the bond. 

At first the Kaonites had looked upon him with skepticism, and the rest of the spacefarers had been little better. A Mebionite in space? It just seemed so very implausible. Cosmos hadn’t blamed them, he had just worked himself into exhaustion, proven himself until there was nothing left he could do in an effort to win them over…

The funny part was of course that he had won them all over the first time he walked out an air lock with nary a flinch and took off on his first solo mission. Kaonites were great believers of courage and even among them spacer armor was rare and those Created with space in their sparks even rarer still. 

In their optics he was worthy of respect and whom a Kaonite respected all others respected as well… at least onboard a ship with a Kaonite captain. 

**Amusement**

Again? There was nothing at all funny about Steelspark, he was as serious as they came, but fair and in a manner gentle. 

Among the Kaonite crew he had found a place to live, a place where he was… happy. 

Among the stars in the silent, cold void called space he had found his home. There was no one to look at him oddly, no one to question the choices he made. The stars might be unwinking and alien but they never did anything and offered him countless opportunities for discovery and experience. 

It was, however, a lonely home. 

There was no one to really share it with; none of the other scouts understood him. They were what they were and had never been the odd one out because of it. They did not find the same solace out there as he… 

**Comfort**

The mental hug made him purr with his engines. 

But everything was different now; while he could not physically share the comfort of space he could share it! He could share _everything_ …

The ship came into view, its sleek mass slicing though the void like a seeker though atmosphere. On it was his new home… his beloved. The mech he had never in a million vorns thought to find. 

**Bashfulness**

Cosmos ignored the feeling and circled around the exploration ship until he was aligned with the open hangar. 

It was easy to transform and touchdown, heavy if tiny frame in perfect balance. His landings were envied by almost all seekers onboard, something he secretly prided himself in. Not so secretly anymore though… 

“Stop hiding from me.” His accent was thick, as thick as the day he had left Mebion but he did not care. 

“Come on… I didn’t lie and you know it.” Another small statured mech ducked out from behind a pair of crates, bashfully walking up to him with his optics on the deck plating. 

So beautiful!

~Am not!~

“Are too, Seaspray! To me, you are the rival of the stars!” Cosmos did not allow his bondmate time to answer, kissing him deeply and easily robbing him of any thoughts to protest. 

The green spacer Mebionite wasn’t about to listen to protests. Seaspray was beautiful… his bondmate…

His home.


	2. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20.000 won by Nnoca
> 
> Warning: MILD Slash (relationship hints), war trauma, depression, healing
> 
> Summary: Love is sometimes about healing as much as about loving...

Grapple had some bad cycles, Hoist huffed as he watched his mate throw himself at a drawing pad, and they always ended very badly. He’d gone to Ratchet and Smokescreen for advice, and always gotten the same answer; ‘it’s his- Grapple’s- way of dealing with the war’. 

They would always start out like this. Grapple would come in to their shared quarters, mood elevated to a frenzy of anticipation and processor working so fast that the spillover though the bond was nothing but blurry images and half finished calculations. He would dig around for a drawing pad and throw himself into a flurry of calculations, drawings, and happy mutters. 

It would last for quite a long time, and slowly something beautiful would take shape on the screen of the drawing pad. Things like a city, built for beauty like Crystal city had been, or a single building, like a temple to Primus, or an artificial lake made out of glass and crystal. It wasn’t even always for Cybertronians… 

Grapple held great respect for the humans and their creativity in architecture. Sometimes his ideas would be about building a city for them… a place graced by all the technology of peace that a Cybertonian could offer them. 

A building like a house for one of their gods, inspired by their own history and the great temples of Primus. 

A school, a university, a home…

It could be anything, really. 

And then slowly his hand would falter, the flurry of thoughts would slow, and darkness would creep in. 

Hoist hated it! It was like that black substance that came out of the Earth some places… thick, sticky and oozing menacingly though cracks. Only this ooze was untouchable, it existed in his mate’s very spark. So deep in it that even Hoist, his spark mate, couldn’t reach it and sooth it away.

Dark and deep, slowly crushing the light of a new idea in his mate until the drawing pad would be set down, nearly finished design so tantalizingly beautiful and so very impossible… 

And that was the core of the matter… Grapple couldn’t make those things. They were of no use in the war, no one was interested in them. 

It hurt so much to watch his mate hunch over the designs, optics forlorn and faraway until the bright yellow and grey mech hauled himself up to shuffle to their berth and forced recharge on himself. Hoist had learned to take away the drawing pads, save their contents in Teletraan 1 and erase them from the pads. If Grapple found them again he would spiral straight into depression… 

Nothing could get Grapple out of those cycles, not kisses, not professions of love… nothing Hoist could do. 

But this time… maybe there was something he could do! A kindle of an idea, spurred on by Optimus Prime’s offer of a new project. He had been waiting, painful as it was, for one of the times where Grapple would draw something for the humans, something small and relatively easy to build…. Hoping it would happen before the deadline for their answer would come up.

“You know…” Leaning over his mate’s shoulder he looked at the home taking shape on the pad screen, it was perfect! He got a grunt, but that was good enough, it meant he had some attention and that was all he needed! “Prime was by a few cyc-, er, days ago, wanted us to do this project… But I don’t know, it’s for humans and stuff.” His mate shifted a little, the flurry of activity in his processor slowing, but not into the dark spiral of depression. 

“World Fair or something… he’s been approached by the president about it, I thi-” 

“The World Fair?!” All design activity halted with a mental screech and Hoist found himself almost bowled over as his mate turned, though amusingly enough Grapple was still clutching the drawing pad. He knew his mate knew what a ‘World Fair’ was, that the crane had been studying them and the remnants of them whenever he could. 

“Oh, you know about it? Well, Prime wants us to build a Cybertronian style home but for humans… you know, all the, ah, ‘Creature comforts’ they need… those, hm… bathrooms and plants and stuff.” 

“Really?!... you mean, really?” And just like that the ooze of depression found itself in full retreat, the drawing pad found itself nestled on Hoist’s chest plating, and he did not care one bit. He didn’t care that Grapple was blabbering at him about how human waste management sucked and what water needs an average human had… about all those little things that he was utterly not interested in. 

All he cared about was that Grapple was happy. That the architect crane could, for once, do something that had nothing to do with the war and everything to do with creating something beautiful! 

Maybe he could do something to prevent the cycles entirely, then?

He knew that certain parts of this world needed water, schools, homes… 

It would need resources, of course, but there were humans that had those and no way to efficiently use them. Grapple might be an artist as much as he was an architect, but he was efficient and never used more time or material then was strictly needed. 

Maybe he should ask Optimus if they could be allowed to approach those humans that tried to help other humans. 

Then he would have a way to keep his mate happy…

That was, after all, what Hoist really cared about, making his mate happy. Giving him a sense of purpose and being needed for something other than holding a gun and fighting the Decepticons.


	3. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30.000 won by Merrypaws
> 
> Warning: MILD Slash (new relationship), cross species
> 
> Summary: Lockdown is hunting a rough pack of wolves and ends up catching a much different prey.

Fox… 

Lockdown growled low, annoyed and pleased all at once. He was looking for a small pack of rouge wolves that kept intruding on the territories of established packs. That was how he gained the right to go wherever he pleased and hunt what he wanted, by serving as a hunter of hunters. 

This rouge pack was smart though, hiding their tracks and encroaching on territories even he had trouble with getting into. 

Like now.

Fox territories were small, foxes in general were friendly, even overly friendly, but there was an age old enmity between them and wolves. Lockdown had never cared much for it, had never had much reason to traverse the lands the foxes claimed as theirs. But this was serious… 

A rouge pack tearing though fox lands would inflame the dormant hatred and possibly cause a war between the two predatory species. Lockdown didn’t much care apart from the fact that it would make his life miserable and make prey scarce. There would be no need for a hunter of hunters during a war and the countryside would be decimated to feed the super packs that would form. 

However it was just one fox, not a pair and that gave some leeway for him to negotiate his way in. The main problem with foxes, from a wolf’s point of view, was that they lived in pairs that were fiercely protective of their hunting territories and their kits. 

One of the lesser problems was that they were damn sexy and not at all open to a little cross-species fun. 

Lockdown huffed, rather annoyed with himself, it was all well and good that he liked his partners to be smaller than him but since when had he been _for_ any cross-species fun? Even with a sexy fox…

He’d better track down this one, though, so he could get help tracking the rouge pack though the fox territories. 

Crossing into the fox’s territory, he couldn’t quite let go of the idea of a liaison, there was just something awfully alluring about this one’s scent… It was like it was calling out for a companion. It was powerful and it made him run hot, something that seldom happened when he met another wolf. Often not even if the other wolf was in heat. 

Lockdown was just _not_ a ‘settle down and build a pack together’ wolf.

Taking a bit of fun now and again was something different, every wolf had needs and most were open to brief encounters under the full moon. Encounters that were forgotten as soon as they had happened, it was just pleasure after all. 

He was just fine with that kind of living! 

Olfactory sensor to the ground, he forced himself to focus on finding the fox and getting all of this taken care of. A little mating urge wouldn’t kill him, it could be ignored. 

“Get out of my territory!” Lockdown backed up with a surprised yelp, optics on the gleaming sharp three pronged weapon that had bit into the ground mere inches from his olfactory sensor tip. 

“Now, now, darlin’, I am trespassin’ I know but I reall~” He was looking around while speaking, attempting to find the source of the voice when he was interrupted. 

“Out! Now! Or I will hit something vital with the next shuriken.” Lockdown tilted his head back and finally saw the fox, up in a tree, in his root mode. 

Fragging Primus! The thing wasn’t just sexy… he was gorgeous, gold and black and angry. And very much affected, too, by the looks of the heat flushed plating. 

“I am afraid I can’ really do that, darlin’, I’m here for a rouge pack… I know they traveled though your territory and I really need to get ‘em before they do irreparable damage.” He also had to attempt not to drool at the sexy thing. It wasn’t very polite and it certainly wouldn’t get him any favors. 

“I chased them out!” The growl was reluctant but at least the hand holding the supposed ‘shuriken’ had been lowered a fraction. 

“Into wolf territory or…” Did he really have to drag everything out of this one?

“What is it to you! Are they your pack?” And back to anger again, hand lifting up and light gleaming from the sharp edges of the weapon. It shouldn’t be making the fox sexier… should it?

“No, I have no pack… they are rouges and they are to be caught and taken to justice at their progenitor packs. Preferably before they cause more tension between your kin and mine.” Flowery speech and all that slag, in all likelihood he would be their only judge and executioner. 

The fox didn’t seem very pleased at all, but eventually the shuriken was put away and he climbed out of the tree. 

They found a sort of compromise, the fox, named Prowl, would take him into the fox territories to someone named Ultra Magnus and there he could explain his errand and his work. Maybe he could even get some sort of deal in place that would allow him to hunt rouge wolves on fox lands in the future. Lockdown kept that idea to himself though. 

Prowl was the most jumpy fox, anything, he had ever met. He couldn’t touch him, or even come close to him before the fox, in root or alt mode, jumped for the nearest bush or tree to disappear into. The he was usually yipped at, as only an angry upset fox could do it. 

It was sad really, he rather liked the idea of touching the lithe fox. Pit, he’d love to ravage that one and make him love every second of it! He knew he could too, no wolf had ever complained at his ability to bring pleasure to an encounter. In fact the urge to do just that grew with each breem he spent in the mech’s presence. 

“Why are you so jumpy, fox?” 

“It’s none of your business!” Lockdown huffed but let the bristling fox be. If he asked more he’d just end up running alone for a while and it was much more interesting to watch the fluffy black tail with the golden tip. Not to mention the rest of the sleek form said tail was attached to. 

That was how most of their conversations went, there was just no talking to Prowl without getting snapped at. Even when he tried fishing for information about this Ultra Magnus fox he was going to meet and how that would be handled he got snapped at. 

In the end it turned out to be somewhat anticlimactic. Ultra Magnus was the biggest fox Lockdown had ever seen, almost as big as a smallish wolf, but he wasn’t very scary. And he was certainly not against letting Lockdown have hunting rights in fox territories when there were rouges on the loose. 

All in all Lockdown felt he came out of that meeting as the winner, but his semi conscious strutting quickly died when he couldn’t find his guide. Prowl couldn’t have left since Ultra Magnus had said he would appoint the ‘loner’ as his contact. What did ‘loner’ mean in relation to foxes anyway?

Prowling though the small grove for his companion and growling a little to himself he startled when he heard subdued but angry yipping. It was clearly Prowl doing most of the talking but there was another one there. After a moment of consideration, Lockdown slinked closer, audio receptors perked in interest. 

“I am not!” Prowl, clearly he had heard enough of the little fox’s yipping to know. 

“You are, it will only get worse.” The other voice was calm and friendly… too friendly for Lockdown’s liking. 

“I don’t care. I won’t let my chassis win!” What in the world were they blabbering about? Peeking though a brush crystal, he opticked his maybe rival and nearly scoffed. The other fox was older then dirt and so frail to look at that he could probably scare him into a spark flux if he needed to get rid of him. Well, it wasn’t mating, that was for sure.

“It is not a matter of winning or losing, Prowl, you can not fight this… I told you that, it is something we all go though.” The old fox paused for a long moment and only Prowl’s agitated moving back and forth made any sound. “Are you sure this reluctance has nothing to do with what, or who, you are fixating on?” The voice was deceptively mild but the effect was great. Prowl stiffened, fur bristling all over his chassis and then he turned around and ran off. 

Lockdown took his leave to the sound of quiet, knowing laughter, still wondering what in the Pit he had been witness to. The wolf was completely mystified, especially when the little black fox showed up all huff early the next morning to lead him further into the fox territories. 

Prowl continued with giving him the cold shoulder, disappearing as soon as he even made to try for a conversation, only talking to him when verbal directions was absolutely unavoidable. It was as adorable as it was annoying. 

Then they happened on the rouge pack. 

They had no warning at all, the five rouge wolves coming out of nowhere more than ready to kill. Lockdown wasn’t that easy to dispose off though and in the end they failed their try, and the two survivors dragged themselves off to lick their wounds. 

Prowl was pretty badly off, nothing that wouldn’t heal up on its own but it made traveling hard. Lockdown wasn’t even sure why he was still staying. His help wasn’t appreciated in the least, even though the fox took his offerings of prey and didn't protest when he carried him to a makeshift den after two days of little travel progress. 

After nearly three orns of being denied access to said den, having prey snatched from his mouth without so much as a ‘thank you’ and in general being ignored, he’d more or less had enough. Sexy or not he wasn’t going to stay when he was so clearly unwanted! 

That righteous fury got him about two joors travel in a good ground eating pace away before guilt set in. Lockdown wasn’t used to feeling guilty or nervous about someone’s wellbeing other than his own. His pace began to falter and he found himself looking back over his shoulder more times than any one needed when they weren’t being pursued. 

As a third joor ticked by he was back on the trail he had just traversed, turned around and annoyed at himself. He felt a little better when he managed to down a wirebuck, at least he now had a good excuse as to why he’d been gone a long while. 

“Lockdown!” He was nearing the den site when the panicky yell reached his audio receptors and he let the wirebuck fall where he was, running flat out to find Prowl standing in the middle of the clearing before the den looking completely terrified. 

Only… there was nothing there to terrify the fox. 

“Uh… Prowl?” Lockdown barely got the name out before he was tackled and nosed all over… _all_ over. 

“Ugh hey! Hey… not, Prowl, what the… not there!” Pushing the fox off he growled at him and got up to shake himself, hoping to hide that his spike had started to stiffen at the brief lick its sheath had received.

“Where were you!” The black fox was partially in his face not a second later, angry and… Lockdown wasn’t sure what was going on at all. 

“Out hunting! Where did you think I was.” 

“You never hunt for that long! I got worried, you didn’t answer my calls…” And suddenly he had the slim black fox pressed to his side as if Prowl was trying to merge armor and fur. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Why the Pit do you suddenly care?” Not that the change wasn’t nice and all, but Lockdown was rather suspicious at the sudden turn about. He was sure he would get yipped at again but instead Prowl drooped… audio receptors, tail, head, fur… 

Lockdown felt guilt rise even though it wasn’t really his fault that he had a hard time believing in the sudden… affection. 

“Well… I suppose I deserved that one… um…” The fox looked up for a moment, almost as if he was hoping not to have to explain himself. Lockdown glared and the fox wilted. “I’m in heat… Didn’t want a mate and then you came along. Well, first those other wolves came and I had to chase them off but…” 

“What does heat have to do with mating?” Most wolves didn’t get their heat until after they had a mate so he couldn’t really see the connection. Though he wasn’t a fox of course. 

“Ah um… I have to mate or it won’t go away. I can interface all I want and it won’t make a difference.” As impossible as it seemed the fox looked even more unhappy now then he had a moment ago. “There wasn’t anyone I wanted to mate with… and then you happened and I got angry because I didn’t want a wolf for a mate…” Lockdown sat down hard, shocked at the implications of what he was hearing. Prowl had been treating him like dirt because… 

‘Are you sure this reluctance has nothing to do with what, or who, you are fixating on?’

Now it all made sense. 

“I know I haven’t been… I mean, of course you can you know… but…” Prowl faltered, unhappy, flustered and clearly not sure how to deal with his silence. Lockdown knew what to do but wasn’t sure why he was willing to do it at all. First though… 

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Walking out of the clearing he laid his audio receptors flat at the quite pained whine from the black fox. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to punish him but they would need a good meal before starting. Even though foxes' heat was clearly different, it couldn’t be _that_ different.

Once he had the wirebuck back, he dragged it to the den and dropped it in front of the entrance. It took a while but eventually Prowl poked his head out, audios still drooping. 

“Lockdown?” 

“For frag's sake, Prowl, I was just getting out fuel. You really think I’m gonna pass on a mate like you?” Foxes were loners… not pack. If he would ever have a mate, it had to be a loner like himself. 

Lockdown found himself tackled for the second time in a half joor, and didn’t mind it one bit. Neither did he mind sharing the kill, or the den after. 

He, in point of fact, loved sharing the makeshift den with Prowl. And all the makeshift dens they dug, built, or borrowed from that orn. 

Pit, he even loved it when Prowl produced a little of kits for him after three vorns of lovemaking. 

And he loved the kits very much, in all their mismatched glory. 

The end…


	4. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30.000 won by Crossfire120576
> 
> Warning: Slash (established relationship)
> 
> Summary: Hound returns home from a mission and is sad that Mirage isn't there to greet him...

Hound always got this warm fuzzy, how he loved human expressions, feeling in his spark when he returned home from a mission and all his friends were there at the Ark entrance to greet him. He knew that several of them had had to trade shifts, and probably bribe with some high grade too, to be there. It was nothing he didn’t do for them and it was not often he was out on long missions, but it was still something he treasured very much. There was only one thing that put a damper on that warm and fuzzy joy of greeting all those he had missed. 

When the one he most looked forward to seeing was not there… 

Mirage. 

The spy had to be out on a mission again, it happened often enough that the mech could not tell him when he had to go. Secret missions, spy work, sabotage to be done… Hound hated that it was necessary, though he knew better than to ever voice it. They were in a war, they had precious few chances to be happy, and he was not going to ruin what they had with what could or should be. 

One day the war would be over! One day… Hound walked slowly down the corridors of the Ark, aiming for the Prime’s office. He had a report to make and then he was going to crash into much needed recharge and hope that Mirage would be back when he woke up. 

He could always dream of Mirage, even if it wasn't…

“ARGH!” The empty hallway tilted sharply as he was yanked sideways into a doorway he hadn’t even seen opening as he passed. For a moment his entire fame tingled with fear as the door slid close and clicked, slim hands holding him firm against the back wall of what was really just a storage closet. 

The fear didn’t last long, he was at the Ark and only one mech in existence could hide himself in plain sight. As if to confirm what he was thinking he heard the low warm chuckle that Mirage only used when he had managed to startle his tracker lover. The slim hands smoothed over his chest plates and then down, he could feel hot venting on his plating and knew that Mirage was aroused. 

He was aroused too, if somewhat confused. If Mirage was here why hadn’t he been at the entrance to greet him? Why this… ambush.

“Mirage, I need to… to…” He faltered and fell quiet when a hot slick glossa began tracing his panel. He could see it, the only thing of his lover visible apart from the oral fluid. Mirage had chosen a storage closet with a light fixture for a reason, the noble knew very well what it did to Hound when he was invisible and touching. This was a bit further then they had gone before though… 

“Mirage?” A hum translated right into vibrations as invisible dermas were pressed to his panel. Slagger knew how to distract him all right… How to get him too hot to think past what his chassis needed from his lover, his beloved. 

His panel clicked open and hot air touched his spike sheath opening a microsecond before Mirage’s dermas were closing over it. He could feel his spike responding eagerly, pressurizing directly into the hot mouth and constricting throat tubing that Mirage provided. 

It was bliss. Pure and utter bliss. 

“Primus… Mirage~” Moaning helplessly he couldn’t help bucking his hips, and Mirage let him, easily moving with him to keep his spike in deep where he could suck and swallow around it. It was driving him crazy! 

Which the noble knew very well… 

It took less than a breem for him to break, giving all up to the overload and his lover’s eager intakes. 

He slid to the floor of the storage closet when Mirage let him go, dizzy with the overpowering pleasure of overload. Mirage didn’t let him rest there, straddling him with eagerness of a kind he so seldom showed in public. 

Still invisible, he took in Hound’s barely softened spike, slim hands on broad green shoulders. Hound moaned both at the feel and the visual of his spike disappearing in thin air, reappearing slowly, glistering with pale purple lubricant and streaks of silvery transfluid. 

Only a little bit above this visual he could see beads of silvery fluid form and slowly begin their way down a curved line of nothing. Mirage was the sexiest thing to walk on this planet or any other! 

They had never made love like this… barely even talked about it because Hound felt awkward about asking for it. It was better like this, a gift from out of nowhere. He could maybe have wished for a berth and the ability to actually do some touching of his own but he was pretty sure that this would not be the last time. 

Not when they were both responding like this! 

“Frag, Mirage, I’m going to…”

“I know!” Mirage’s voice was as static laced and just as jerky as his own. Just as filled with pleasure. 

Hound had been sure he would go over first, even with his previous overload, but he was proven wrong when he felt Mirage’s valve contract harshly around his spike and watched silver transfluid erupt from the invisible spike to splatter on his own plating. 

That sight and those feeling sent him into his second overload. 

Dazed, he felt his lover kiss him deeply before a sated gentle chuckle reached his audio receptors. 

“I’ll be waiting on your berth, handsome.” And then Mirage was gone, the door barely sliding open before it closed. Hound slumped a little, wondering if he should be put out or not. The question was annulled when he looked down and saw clean cloths and a can of cleanser. 

Primus, he loved his noble even if the mech could be a terrible little… He ran out of words, not having something that was just right in this context. 

Cleaning up thoroughly, he subspaced the cloths and cleanser can, no need to leave evidence. Then he stretched languidly before keying the door fully open, walking out as if nothing had happened. There was one mech that probably knew what had transpired back there, even if not the details of it. Hound smiled a little sheepishly at a surveillance camera. Oh well…

He was really lucky that no one commented on his late arrival to the debriefing, he did get a few raised optical ridges and his heated cheek plating probably answered those well enough. All in all the debriefing was painless if long, as such things had a habit to be. 

Finally though he was out in the hallways again, trotting towards Mirage and his quarters, looking forward to see his lover and maybe continue what he had begun. 

Keying their door open, he had the noble’s name on his dermas but halted it from spilling at the visual that was revealed. 

On the berth Mirage was curled up, a gentle smile gracing a faceplate free of all worries. He was soundly in recharge , thermal blanket bunched up to his chest plates as if he was holding someone in his dreams. Hound made a holo image scan of it, to have when he missed the noble during missions, and then he carefully crawled over him and pulled him to his own chest plates. 

Love making could wait till tomorrow…


	5. Possession is nine-tenths of the law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 40.000 won by Nnoca
> 
> Warning: Slash, Topping from the bottom, Romance, prejudice and Sentinel getting down and up at the same time ;) I suppose it starts out as dub-con but only because Sentinel is being Sentinel ^^;
> 
> Summary: Swindle has chosen a mate, Sentinel... well, the body talks... or chassis or whatever ^^

Wolves! Here in the city and making demands… citing old treaties as grounds for right. Sentinel growled, thoroughly displeased at the development his master hunt had gone trough. Shifters or not they were Wolves, filthy predators who took down mechs and devoured them!

They were all destined to be shot, skinned, and have their ugly mugs mounted on a hunter's wall!

And if no one else was going t~

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would be interrupting someone here,” the voice was sweet with an edge of slickness and a promise of… something. Sentinel turned slowly, fist still resting in the dent it had made in the wall.

The mech standing there looking at him was small, somewhat square-ish, a lovely golden cream, black and purple with the biggest purple optics he had ever seen. He was exquisite, broad shoulders, wide chest, but slim hips and lovely legs… and lovely pedes too!

Sentinel had a thing for legs, he had never tried to hide that little quirk.

Unfortunately the mech’s helmet was adored by telltale ears and a fluffy tail swayed lazily behind him. Another wolf…

“What are you doing here,” the snarl was not really a question, all it conveyed was annoyance… anger and maybe some disdain. Sentinel was really, really tired of wolves and it did not help that this one was the kind of mech he would have tried to seduce. If only he had been minus the fur.

"I was... exploring, since we are not allowed outside the guild halls," the hesitation was artful, the tone far more slick than it had been to start out. The wolf 'blinked' at him, helmet slowly tilting to the right as if he was asking a question, not answering a rudely barked inquiry.

"Go explore somewhere else!" 'Get away from me', he did not add that aloud. Sentinel was well aware of the orders he had received from the city council. The wolves did have a reason to be here... even a good reason. You could not just banish those you had trade agreements with.

The gorgeous... the _wolf_ did not seem impressed with his order and stepped into the room, looking about curiously. He kept blinking, drawing Sentinel's attention to the large luminous optics. Was it even healthy to blink that much?

"But I want to see this room," there was a definite note of teasing mixed into the slickness. As if the wolf knew very well that he was baiting.

"You have not been invited!" Sentinel turned to fully face the smaller mech, a frown pulling at his dermas. Pretty or not, droolworthy or not, the mech was still butting in where he should not go! Did he care nothing for courtesy?

"But... this is a part of the guild hall, isn't it?" big optics locked on his, thin dermas turned down at the corners in an unhappy grimace. For some reason the expression pulled uncomfortably at his spark.

"Yes, but..." he stopped realizing that he was not sure what to add. Technically the wolf was right, they had been promised free reign of the guild halls and this was part of the halls. That it was his _private_ domain where only those called normally came...

"This is my office and living quarters, you have no business here!" That was also technically true, and the mention of private living quarters really should tell the wolf that he had overstepped the boundaries of hospitality.

Unfortunately for Sentinel his visitor brightened at the news, optics taking on a sheen that seemed... hungry.

"Really? Your _private_ quarters?" the emphasis was odd, but the meaning clear. Sentinel was possibly not the sharpest tool in the drawer but he was able to understand physical cues like a lewd smile, even more lewd licking of dermas and the obvious up and down look he was receiving right now.

"Yes, my private quarters, now get out!" the wolf merely blinked slowly and prowled closer. Yes, prowled... he did not know how else to label the way the mech was moving. Wolf! Not mech... a filthy predator that eats other mechs. Ate mechs...

"Stay away!" Sentinel backed up, backed up hitting the wall long before he was at a 'safe' distance. Though a safe distance would have helped greatly if there had also been a couple of traps, some spears and a few other hunters between him and the wolf.

"But why? I am not going to _hurt_ you..." and that was a purr, or a strangely soft growl. The small wolf looked somewhere between hungry and hurt, something that made Sentinel's spark flip oddly in his chest.

"Right, you are just going to nibble on my leg all friendly-like," he asked sarcastically, clamping down on the spark of fear and... whatever feeling that had his spark doing flipflops.

"Mmm... I was thinking about nibbling a little on your spike, but if you would like me to nibble on your leg instead?" those big purple optics blinked again, at once innocent and devilish. Sentinel gaped, unable for a moment to process what he had just heard.

"You want to _eat_ my spike?" and the wolf was _telling_ him that it was planning that? The wolf paused at that, expression turning thoughtful as it obviously thought over what it had been saying.

"More like suck it, lick it... swallow it down until I can have it in my valve?" To Sentinel's great embarrassment, the question went straight to his interface components, ignoring whatever reservations, or outright fears, he had still. It was ridiculously difficult to keep his panel closed.

"Don't you like that sort of thing?" the wolf was purring again and coming closer, close enough to touch...

Claws running over his panel made it snap open, a hot flush of lust and embarrassment coloring Sentinel's cheek plating. He wanted to protest, push the other away... do something! But his vocalizer simply crackled uselessly as the wolf gracefully sank to his knee joints and did just what he had promised.

The sharp fangs barely even touched his spike as hot, wet heat enveloped his member, making his spark throb and pulse in response to the stimuli. Finally a noise broke free but it was nothing but a rough kind of whimper and his hands, finally moving, were not pushing the wolf away.

Come to think of it... the fur kind of felt nice actually...

oOo

"Mmm... My name is Swindle," Sentinel made a vague 'huh' noise, not really inclined to move from his slumped position.

"You are heavy," he grunted again and reluctantly rolled over, groaning as his spike left the still fluttering valve. He was so spent, but he had rather wanted to cuddle... he liked staying inside his partners for as long as possible. But he was a good deal larger than the wolf... than Swindle and he did not blame him for thinking him heavy.

A moment later the smaller mech, wolf... mech was straddling his legs, clawed hands gently cupping his spike.

"You have a _lovely_ spike, nice and big and tireless... I am so glad I chose you!"

"Eh?" Sentinel tried to rouse himself, something other than his all too willing interface components that was. But after three overloads it was rather hard, even his spike was slow to respond to the fondling.

"My Sire was not too keen on you, see. Onslaught is so picky about who we all court! But I wanted you... and I am not at all disappointed," Swindle chattered on, letting go of his mostly pressurized spike only to move up so he could seat himself on it.

"Sire?" the question was nearly a squeak this time, the sudden sensation of wet heat as startling this time as it had been the first.

"Mhmm... but don't you worry, lover! I know how to handle my Sire, he's all grumble and no bite... oh yes! You feel so bi~ig like this," the wolf purred above him, starting a slow rhythm of lift and fall with a bit of grinding thrown in, just for the Pit of it.

Sentinel decided that he could analyze what he had been told later. It could not really be that bad... not if he got to frag the wolf some more. Sire or not... really...

Oooh...

**Author's Note:**

> Beta  
> Rocklight-Tippers  
> AKzeal  
> Everyone at my Write With Me the night of 27-06/28-06-2012


End file.
